


trade mistakes

by trycatpennies



Category: Panic At The Disco, Young Veins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 01:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trycatpennies/pseuds/trycatpennies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which ryan is a dick, but we all love him anyway, for unknown reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trade mistakes

Ryan shows up on Brendon’s doorstep and Brendon is one hundred and ten percent unsurprised. First there’d been tweets, then text messages, a phone call with no voice on the other end, and now a knock on his door. It’s not late, it’s barely even night. It’s summertime, verging on, and it’s just dark out, the sun sinking over the houses across the street.

“Sorry,” Ryan says and Brendon shakes his head.

“Someday, Ross, you’ll figure out that apologizing first thing takes some of the meaning out of it. I don’t even know what you’re sorry for.”

Because there are so many things.

Brendon steps back and lets Ryan in. Ryan’s got nothing with him but his car is out front, so who knows what’s in there. At least if he drove it means he’s probably sober.

Brendon knows Ryan will idle in the front hall for a week if someone doesn’t force him to come in and sit down; it’s one of the those things that Brendon never got. How Ryan could manage to work his way to guest status when everyone else had clearly upgraded him to family.

“Come in,” Brendon says, and he mutes the television and crosses into the kitchen, listening to Ryan’s boots click on the hardwood when he follows, still silent. “Sorry it’s a mess, there’s.”

A tour, Brendon wants to finish. But he can’t. Because he knows Ryan’s on his ass at home or fucking around in France, getting his money’s worth, Brendon guesses. It’s heartbreaking, and he can’t tell Ryan about tour because on some level, Ryan should still be there. Brendon's mourned enough, but it still hurts with Ryan in front of him like this.

Brendon opens a beer, slides one to Ryan, takes one for himself. Ryan thumbs the label, looking everywhere but Brendon.

“Where’s-“

“She doesn’t live here,” Brendon says. He doesn’t want to talk about her. He doesn’t want to get into it. God, not at all.

“Oh,” Ryan says, nodding. He looks fucking lost, and Brendon takes pity, sighing.

“Why are you here, Ryan?”

Ryan looks down at his hands and shrugs. Brendon winces and downs some of his beer, before sitting down across from Ryan at the kitchen table, pushing his glasses up. He’s not going to lead this conversation, not gonna walk Ryan through this conflict the way he’d walked them all through about a million in the past. This one’s got to be all Ryan. Ryan finally sets the beer aside, untouched except for the destroyed label, and looks at Brendon.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ryan says, and Brendon crumbles. He can’t help it, because Ryan looks fucking broken, smashed beyond recognition. Brendon’s only ever seen this once before and he’d been too broken himself to help Ryan pick up any pieces.

“I can’t go through anything like this again-“ Brendon starts, but Ryan cuts him off, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to come back, Brendon. Just. Give me a night?” Ryan’s still deadpan, but this is the kind of tonelessness bred from sadness overlaying sadness and Brendon closes his eyes against it, taking a second. Ryan’s sadness is always overwhelming.

“Come to bed,” Brendon says, and he finishes his own beer before standing.

It’s not late, but they fall into bed anyway because it’s too late for them to do anything else. They relearn lines, Ryan’s ribs carefully counted under Brendon’s fingertips, their calluses making Ryan shiver. Brendon gasps and makes the same noises he’s always made, lets Ryan under his skin and invites a bite of teeth into his lower lip, panting and grabbing for anchor on Ryan’s bony shoulders.

Ryan fucks him slow, presses his head into Brendon’s shoulder, licks at his collarbone and Brendon’s lost again, because he’s won a thousand battles but Ryan’s already won his heart; the war.


End file.
